


Only Forever

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12682293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Set in Season 3, after episode 5.  When an old frenemy from Rip's Time Master days steals the Wave Rider and forces the Legends to rescue Rip from prison, Sara and Rip have no choice but to face their many issues.  Despite broken trust, damaged hearts and plenty of pride, can Sara and Rip ever reconcile, or admit that they are in love?  Plus, just what exactly does Sir Reginald DeBoer want with the Legends, two wildly different and highly unusual planets light years apart, and the impossible retrieval of a technology that is very much alive?





	1. Prologue: You're in my blood, you're in my veins, you're in my head

It was just another day on the Wave Rider, and that was enough to annoy Sara to the edge of her endurance. Try as they might, they had been unable to locate Damien Darhk and the cabal of Mallus’ followers, who had somehow managed to bury themselves in the timeline. Without anachronisms or anomalies, it was going to be near-impossible to track her most bitter enemy, the man she’d actually put back into his own timeline despite it meaning that her sister Laurel would again die at his hands. Wasn’t that sacrifice on her part good enough? Sara wondered, then found the thought pointless. She must have the worst, cruelest joking version of luck in the universe. Because not only had Darhk been resurrected by those crazed zealots, but it was only through the meddling, know-it-all interference, trickery, and deceit of Rip Hunter that they had been able to achieve this goal.

Sara leaned back in her seat, her legs propped up on her desk, staring through the open door of the library as her teammates went bustling back and forth, each of them working on their own little project, mostly in aid of finding Darhk. Plus Jax, Ray, and Martin were analyzing ways of splitting up Firestorm, while Amaya and Zari tried to figure out the connection between the powers of their totems. Nate was busily reviewing Darhk’s timeline to find favorite past lairs and habits that might offer a lead, while Mick sat to one side, drinking a beer and offering sarcastic commentary that would occasionally yield surprisingly sage wisdom.

She felt useless, itching to drive a dagger through Darhk’s heart, distracted by the haunting memories of this last mission with Rip. Sara had only just gotten over his absence from the ship, wanting first to respect his need to go off and find himself, and then trying to get past the hurt and resentment brought on by his creation of the Time Bureau and disbanding of the Legends. Rip had put the Legends together, had put her here in this amazing destiny, given her new purpose, made her fall in love with him for all of his broken pieces and brilliant abilities, all of his pain and beauty. Maybe that whole romantic side of things wasn’t his fault, or he didn’t realize the effect he had on Sara, but she was going to go right ahead and blame him for it anyway.

Sara hated Rip for his haunted, stunning blue eyes that captured her soul just to crush it without mercy or hesitation. She despised him for teaching her so much about friendship and loyalty, for showing her the way to become a leader himself, only to reject her and everything she represented. Worse, Rip had spat in the face of everything their relationship had ever meant to both of them, the mutual respect, the shared sense of wry humor, the thrill of tackling a complex mission side by side with total trust and reliance on the other’s skill. The hot, prickly feeling of need that aroused her every time he stepped just a little too close to her, teasing her with the possibility that she wasn’t alone in this attraction, this longing. What a fucking disaster he was, and what a total mess he had rendered Sara.

She got that he truly believed capturing Mallus was more important than anything else, and after being unable to convince her, he felt he had no choice but to see his own plan through. Yet Sara was infuriated not only to realize that he valued her own judgement so lowly, but also that he never stopped to think about the ramifications of what Darhk’s potential return — infinitely likelier if he followed his own plan rather than the one she had proposed — would mean for _her_ , the trauma it would revisit on her. Sara whipped a knife from her pocket and threw it at the wall in an outburst of anger and pain, wishing that the motion, or the sight of the blade embedded in the wall, inspired anything other than an awful, numb misery in her exhausted heart.

“Ouch,” Gideon complained irritably. “Was that really necessary, Captain Lance?”

“No,” Sara admitted. “And it didn’t even feel good. Sorry, Gideon. I’m just in—”

“A very bad mood? I’ve noticed, and can hardly fault you for it, Captain. But unfortunately, I’m afraid the day is about to get even worse.”

Sara jolted into action mode at the sound of Gideon’s foreboding announcement. “What’s going on?” She demanded, leaping to her feet. She yanked the knife from the wall and held it at the ready, scanning the library and then slinking out into the bridge area to confront any potential threat.

“It seems that the Wave Rider has been captured by an unknown aggressor,” Gideon chirped a bit too casually. Dammit, she was excited for a new adventure. Actually, Sara kind of understood that instinct. Sitting around was definitely starting to drive her crazy, too. Still, this situation was all kinds of not good.

“A tractor beam’s got us locked in place,” Ray added when Sara stepped onto the bridge. 

“There’s a ship out there, but I can’t get a read on whose it is or even what time they’re from,” Jax put in confusedly, squinting at the information Gideon had displayed in the space above the console in disbelief.

“That is a common issue for the old-model Time Master vessels,” Gideon explained smoothly. “Actually, to most of you Legends, they’re from the far future. They originate from the time when Director Hunter joined the Time Masters. These ships were specially designed to evade all scans and to seem to be simultaneously from all and no time. This technique allowed the Time Masters to travel in secrecy and discretion, two concepts they prized above all else.”

Sara flinched at the mention of Rip’s name and cleared her throat. “Can we talk to them?”

“What the hell?” Jax complained as the room around them darkened, a result of all the windows of the room clamping shut, shields folding down around the Wave Rider like dark wings, shuttering them in and making their trapped status even more severe.

“Yes, Mr. Jackson,” Gideon replied, “It seems that the other ship has placed us in lockdown mode. Whoever is doing this is able to override my control of the ship.”

“Not this again,” Mick groused, rubbing his forehead. “I’m going to get a new book to read.” He stalked off towards the library and Sara rolled her eyes. He was probably right that this new problem would take a while to crack, and she didn’t _have_ a while. They needed to get after Darhk, and pronto, not deal with some random that probably just wanted to steal the ship and sell it, or use it to pursue their own selfish time travel agenda.

“I can open up the comms,” Ray said helpfully. “Excuse me,” he said earnestly once Gideon had connected to the other ships’ communications receiver, “Would you mind explaining who you are and why you’ve shipnapped us?” He shrugged as Nate gave him an accusatory expression of _that’s the best opening you could come up with?_

“I’d be delighted to tell you all about me,” a stranger announced in a posh English accent, appearing without warning on the bridge in front of them. He was a tall, handsome man with raven hair and a flawless dark green suit, plus a self-satisfied smile on his face that went far beyond mere smugness. Ego seemed to ooze out from his pores. Sara wrinkled her nose in disdain. “It’s my favorite subject.” He winked.

“Who the hell are you?” Amaya asked in annoyance, her arms crossed.

“I’m Sir Reginald DeBoer, former Time Master, current galactic rogue. And I’m trespassing on your ever-charming hospitality, adorable Legends, because I need a big-time favor which can only be provided by a member of your brave crew. Mmmkay?” He put his hands up in a gesture which suggested, “this is all so simple and reasonable, and aren’t I irresistible?”

“Um, no, _not_ mmkay,” Zari argued, touching her amulet and then looking down in confusion when it failed to flare bright red.

“Oh, dear me, don’t try to use any of your powers, darlings,” DeBoer warned, gesturing around with a small, thin, tube-shaped piece of tech he had removed from his jacket pocket. “This super-useful invention creates an energy field which sucks your abilities from you like a great big, invisible sponge.”

Jax and Martin slapped their hands together to no avail, and Mick pressed the trigger on his heat gun, but nothing happened. “It disables your various weapons, too,” DeBoer elaborated, “You’re all quite useless right now, aside from being dazzlingly attractive, of course.”

“Screw you,” Mick growled, charging at DeBoer only to be bounced back by some kind of force field.

“I’ve got fields inside fields, inside fields,” The intruder smirked, “I’m like a Russian nesting doll of ship-commandeering, Legend-manipulating tasty goodness. Now then, I need, very urgently, to speak with Captain Rip Hunter, and I know you all are his little pets, so where is he, if you please?”

“That _turncoat_ is currently rotting in Time Bureau jail,” Martin snipped coldly. 

“Oh, blast it all,” DeBoer whined, though even his complaining came out in a slick purr. “Hell’s bells, rattlesnakes and cucumbers and fuckity fuck. That old tin can I travel in since my own beloved ship was cruelly wrested from me by fellow thieves who could never properly appreciate it has miscalculated the time of my arrival here today. I was supposed to get here while Rip was still your leader.”

“How did he get through that whole speech without stopping to take a breath?” Nate wondered.

“Cucumbers?” Jax repeated, perplexed.

“Yes, I hate cucumbers,” DeBoer clarified. “They’re like zucchinis in disguise and they bring nothing but disappointment.”

“That’s absurd; cucumbers are deliciously refreshing,” Martin argued.

“Better than grapefruit, anyway,” Jax concurred.

“Oh, God, seriously! Shut up, you guys,” Sara interrupted, stepping as close as she could get to DeBoer’s bubble of safety and giving him her most venomous death glare. “There’s a new Captain now, I’ve got other, much more important things to do, and Rip Hunter is no where to be seen, so take a hike, or I promise you, I will find a way to defeat all these layers of technology and vivisect you.”

“Sexy,” DeBoer replied, unfazed. “But, _Captain_ Lance, it will take you ages to crack all the complicated systems I have set up to keep you as my prisoners, and probably nowhere near as long to just bring me to this Time Bureau facility — whoever they are, they sound boring — and help me retrieve your former boss. I’ll need some help from the rest of you for this mission, but Rip is utterly vital to my cause.”

“Why don’t you just use your tin can to zap yourself to the time you meant to come to?” Zari asked, sitting down next to Mick and fishing a chip out of the open bag beside him.

“Because I’m going all sentimental all of a sudden, seeing you Legends without Rip. I mean, he is such an integral part of your team, of which I admit to being the ultimate fanboy. It’s a long story, but I’m quite a history buff, both past and future, and reviewing your adventures has provided me with hours of entertainment. I want to get the band back together _and_ achieve my own goals at the same time! Because my dears, I am the best!”

“Forget it,” Sara shot back. “You’re wasting your time. We’ll never take Rip back after what he did. Much less work with you for whatever shady mission you’ve got in mind. What kind of rogue has missions, anyway?”

“Everyone has _something_ in their sights which they’ve simply got to have, come hell or high water, and that’s a mission no matter what your chosen career. Either way, you’re taking me to Rip Hunter, or I will keep this ship under my control and have the longest-ever staring contest with you. Sorry, not sorry.” DeBoer grinned wolfishly.

Sara’s hands formed hard fists at her sides and she scowled at DeBoer so harshly that Ray flinched by proxy.

Sara looked around at her friends, who had no other ideas to wrest the Wave Rider back, and realized that they were actually going to have to rescue Rip Hunter, maybe even work with him again, to get rid of this smooth-talking madman. “You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” she fumed.


	2. Chapter 1: The way you look at me, I short circuit

“So why were you ever friends with this Rip Hunter guy to begin with?” Zari asked as she was making her way to the inner sanctum of the Time Bureau headquarters where Rip was being held prisoner, Ray, Jax and Martin following close behind her.

“He was our leader,” Ray whispered nostalgically, his expression soft as he remembered the early days of the Legends. “He assembled this team, brought us together.”

“For his own reasons,” Jax muttered resentfully. “He used us, man.”

“I _am_ feeling distinctly used where Director Hunter is concerned,” Martin chimed in, “And I don’t like that feeling at all.”

“It just makes me wonder if our friendship was even real,” Ray sighed just before a group of Time Bureau guards confronted them. Zari, Jax, and Ray quickly subdued the guards as Martin went to work on the locking mechanism to the brig area. He attached the sleek, spindly, spider-shaped device provided to them by DeBoer to the console and the doors slid open.

“I mean, Jax,” Ray said, stepping over an unconscious guard, “Rip helped you to become the engineer of the Wave Rider. Plus, he was totally a part of our whole BROTP-squad that we had going on—”

“What exactly is a BROTP?” Martin asked, baffled.

“My point is, was all of that, our whole friendship with Rip, was it all fake? Kind of ruins a lot of good memories if we have to look at it that way.”

“There _is_ no other way of looking at it,” Jax insisted as they approached Rip’s cell. “Face it, Ray. The bromance is over.”

Zari looked at Ray’s crestfallen face and then back over at Jax’s bitter expression and Martin’s look of firm resolve. “Damn, there’s no shortage of drama with this team,” She concluded, her voice tempered with sympathy for the hurt feelings her new friends clearly exhibited in their own different ways.

“Oh, it’s you lot,” Rip greeted the group drily. He had been sitting down rather forlornly, one arm balanced languidly across his knee while the other long leg stretched out haphazardly. Now, he switched gears to embody pure coolness, standing up and crossing his arms as he leveled his friends with a nonchalant look free from curiosity. “Come to seek my assistance, have you? This whole problem with Mallus gotten a bit more than you could handle without my help?”

“‘A bit more than you could handle without my help?’” Jax mimicked in a high-pitched British accent. “No, man. We came here because some nutball old pal of yours forced us to spring you. This is literally the last place anyone on this team wants to be right now.”

“Well, actually, lame as this is, I can think of a few worse places,” Zari put in. “But I don’t have the emotional investment you guys do for this whole situation. Seriously, though, you are really condescending — you realize that right?” She asked Rip, and saw his expression shift almost imperceptibly from a mask of disregard to a tiny flicker of regret.

“Where’s Sara?” Rip asked, and it was as if the question burst from him out of involuntary impulse.

“Haha, I knew it,” Jax snickered, reaching over to take a twenty dollar bill from a disappointed Ray. “Less than one minute after our arrival, he asks where Sara is.”

“I said it would take you five minutes at least because you’d be too prideful,” Ray explained, looking at Rip reproachfully. “So kudos on getting down to that last dreg of self-worth.”

Rip flinched ever so slightly, registering that he must have offended Ray very deeply to invoke such a reaction from him. 

“She doesn’t really want to look at you right now,” Jax elaborated, approaching Rip’s cell and glaring at his former captain. 

“A sentiment which she has every right to,” Martin added, hacking the lock on Rip’s cell until the invisible wall before him vanished, deactivated. “Now, please follow us, and let’s finish this inconvenient little detour.”

“Who exactly sent you after me?” Rip asked, rubbing his chin where some stubble had grown in and straightening his slightly rumpled, plain white prison uniform shirt. He followed the others despite their lack of a reply, eventually shrugging at their chilly attitude, though a hurt expression kept reemerging in his pale blue gaze before he shoved it back down again.

When they returned to the Wave Rider, Rip was unceremoniously elbowed into the bridge area by Jax, only to bump smack into Mick. Rory glowered at Rip, his arms crossed. “Watch your step, Englishman. None of us are going to forget about the double-cross you pulled last time. There’s supposed to be a certain honor, even among thieves, you know.”

“Yes, I’m getting the impression that you all aren’t especially fond of me anymore, thank you, Mr. Rory,” Rip replied, a bit exhausted, stepping back from Mick’s imposing stance. “I don’t think I really need any further clarification on the subject.” He glanced over Mick’s shoulder to where Sara stood with her back to them, and Rory noticed how Rip gulped and looked nervous in a way which a threat from Heat Wave could never inspire. 

“You better show her some damn respect,” Mick warned. “I’m watching you.” With that, he slipped his reading glasses on and slunk away with his newest read, _Anna Karenina._

“Well, well, well,” DeBoer sang out, striding up to Rip as if he was about to burst from glee. “Captain Rip Hunter — oh, excuse me, apparently we are ‘Director Hunter’ now, ay?” He nudged Rip, clearly expecting his former friend to be elated at his presence.

“Oh, it would be you, Reg, wouldn’t it?” Rip groaned, his hands going to the back of his neck as if the stress had all gathered there. “It’s been that kind of a bloody week for me.”

“I missed you too!” DeBoer exclaimed, hugging Rip as the other man’s arms hung by his sides, completely unresponsive to his affection. “This is so exciting. Alright, so in order to get their ship back and be able to return to their ongoing crusade against this Darhk fellow — b.t.dubs, that is a fantastic villain name, I love it, you people have the best enemies — we are going on a wonderful adventure together!”

“So essentially, you’ve stolen the Wave Rider and put it on lockdown mode in order to force the Legends to assist you in some selfish, ill-advised, probably extremely dangerous crusade that only benefits you?” Rip bit out angrily.

“Um, in what way is that not _exactly_ what you did, Rip?” Nate asked indignantly.

“Where’s the lie?” Jax agreed.

“You people clearly have no idea, whatsoever, what you are dealing with here,” Rip retorted, offended and spurred on to take the high ground again by whatever means necessary. “DeBoer here was a schoolmate and good friend of mine, until he decided to break every rule ever held sacred by the Time Masters and go around stealing famous artists from their timelines, keeping them prisoner aboard his incredibly creepy art gallery of a ship, the Paradise. His whole philosophy is that if he likes someone or something, he simply steals it and keeps it for himself only to admire and enjoy. He is a madman but also a genius whose every move is planned out well in advance to double-cross anyone in his way for his own greedy agenda.”

“Yes, that about sums it up,” DeBoer replied with a grin. “Though you’re awfully reductive in describing my motives, mate. You see, Legends, I can’t bear the idea of brilliant artists dying in the flush of their youth before their full potential could ever be realized. Can you blame me for wanting to preserve the James Deans and Jane Austens, the Forcretius brothers and Reina Jins of the universe so that they can flourish and continue to _create_? I am, in purest terms, a patron. Plus, an accomplished engineer and inventor.”

“You’re a kidnapper,” Rip answered, “And yes, we can blame you.”

“Too bad, because those five people are aboard my ship as we speak, and the Paradise herself has been, alas, Lost. Stolen by the person responsible for setting this whole affair in motion. Ripped from me by the most nefarious criminal duo alive, who have also wrested from my collection of marvels an astonishing technology I’ve evolved to stop the human aging process. Not only was I going to use that invention to make sure my artist guests—”

“Kidnapping victims,” Sara interrupted, speaking for the first time since Rip’s arrival, though she still refused to turn and look at him.

“You say potato,” DeBoer answered casually. “As I was saying, I was also going to use the preservation cube, as I call it, to make quite an astounding profit for myself until enemies of mine swiped it, splitting it in half and hiding it on two planets many light years apart. Their plan is to analyze the technology until they learn to replicate it so that the profit will be theirs. Of course, however, I have tracking devices built into the cube halves, so their attempt to fend off my pursuit will be a complete failure.”

“Can you please in _any_ way tell me that you’re not talking about Esme and Esmer Rodriguez?” Rip requested, but DeBoer shook his head.

“Yes, those rascally twins are the thieves,” DeBoer confirmed. “You know, Mr. Rory, I think I take your point about thieves without honor.” Mick looked up, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. “There’s nothing more hurtful and offensive than being screwed over by one of your own.”

“Well, for the first time, I actually agree with you,” Sara said crisply, turning on DeBoer with an icy glare she didn’t bother shooting in Rip’s direction. “So what’s the plan? Let’s get this over with already.”

“I’m taking a page out of the Rodriguez’ book to beat them at their own game,” DeBoer explained, proud of himself and rubbing his hands together in merry anticipation. “We’re splitting the Legends team in two. Half of you will accompany me, aboard that sad old bucket of bolts The Sandstorm, which conveyed me here, and travel to Nesirium, the planet of endless vines.”

“I bet he doesn’t mean red vines,” Zari complained, chewing a gummy bear as Nate sighed his agreement in her disapproval.

“I bet the vines move,” Jax added glumly.

“Ooh, do they really?” Ray asked, snapping to more invested attention. “Can I go?”

“Indeed you may, Dr. Palmer,” DeBoer said, “So glad to see _someone_ around here showing a little enthusiasm for this mission.”

“Do your victims usually appreciate the things you force them to do?” Amaya inquired, her voice so quiet with rage, her eyes flashing so fiercely that it was all too apparent she’d be using some very unfriendly animal spirits to lash out at DeBoer if her powers hadn’t been subdued.

“Oh, aren’t we just ever so judgy, Vixen?” DeBoer remarked, hand on his heart. “I don’t like that attitude one bit, and I don’t care to have you with me, especially since the slightest malfunction of my tech may cause me to be eaten by a mystical tiger entity. So why don’t you join Mr. Rory, along with Dr. Heywood, and of course Captain Lance and my old chum Rip here, on the planet Fossinandra IV. I think you’ll find that environment and culture eminently refreshing, my feisty darlings.”

“I’m not going anywhere with him,” Sara insisted, nodding at Rip, who looked over at her searchingly, almost beseeching her to look back despite her continued refusal. 

“That’s where your mistaken, my sweet plum pudding pop,” DeBoer corrected her with a pat on her cheek. He pulled his arm back into his protective force field before she could break his wrist. “Don’t forget my ever-so-thoughtful secondary agenda here. ‘Let’s get together, yeah yeah, yeah,’” He sang jubilantly with a wink at Rip and Sara that left them both red-faced and bristling with frustration. Sara couldn’t believe this jerk was taking the time to try and force the team to reconcile with Rip on top of everything else.

“Alright, sugar puffs, you cute widdle softies are with me,” DeBoer informed Zari, Ray, Martin, and Jax. “Nesirium, here we come. Just don’t judge me on the decor of the Sandstorm, my current and most regrettable vessel. Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead selling it for scrap, but desperate times and all.”

DeBoer’s newly formed team followed him unenthusiastically out of the room, Jax muttering, “I am not a sugar puff.”

“Me neither,” Zari agreed, “But Ray totally is.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Ray said, perking up again. “Is anyone else even a tiny bit excited to see the magic alien vines?”

“Oh, good grief,” Martin complained just as the doors closed behind them.

“Gideon, please set a course for Fossinandra IV,” Sara requested, “Let’s make it fast. We need to get this cube half so that we can get back to doing something that actually _matters_.

“Indeed, Captain Lance,” Gideon replied as everyone strapped into their chairs. “Like cleaning up Director Hunter’s mess. I couldn’t agree more.”

“Et tu, Gideon?” Rip asked with a depressed sigh.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Director Hunter,” Gideon snapped before subsiding once more into silence.

Mick looked up from his book and laughed heartily. “Even Gideon hates you. Nice job, Englishman. I think I’m going to enjoy watching you burn like the sell-out swine you are on this trip.”

“Oh, God,” Rip groused, shifting in his seat as if his skin was crawling. “Are we there yet?”

When they arrived at Fossinandra IV, Nate pulled up the map of the planet and the coordinates for the Rodriguez twins’ hideout there which DeBoer had provided.

“Should be right in this cave system,” he determined, pointing at the map suspended above them in neon blue.

“I should issue you a word of caution, Legends,” Gideon remarked, “Before you disembark, you should know that the Fossiandran atmosphere has the unique ability to bring out absolute honesty in anyone who breathes it. Yet the natives have a strict policy against anyone attempting to visit their world wearing a mask or other means of avoiding the air.”

“Huh,” Mick assessed, “I couldn’t care less. When do I ever not speak the truth?”

“Samesies,” Nate agreed, grabbing his bag of gear and preparing to leave.

“This is intolerably invasive,” Amaya complained as Rip nodded.

“That’s doubtlessly a bonus feature for Reg in sending us here,” he observed irritably. “I know how his twisted mind works.”

“Takes one to know one,” Sara snipped, then caught herself and added, “Sorry, I almost forgot that I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Really, you’re never speaking to Rip again?” Nate wondered. “Cause the satisfaction I’m getting from dissing him is pretty epic.”

“Who?” Sara said dismissively, leading the way as they headed off on their mission.

The planet below was stunning, swept all over in vivid colors, as if an artist in a burst of romantic inspiration had brushed emerald green gems across the sky, scattering tangerine glitter across the sands they stepped out onto. A large citadel a few miles off was the only sign of civilization in what was otherwise a vast expanse of natural beauty. Trees filled with glistening yellow fruit dotted the scene, while tall pink flowers spouted everywhere.

“If I was in a better mood, I might admire this place,” Sara admitted, her face softening just a tiny bit as she couldn’t help responding to the shock of loveliness that surrounded them. Rip’s mouth turned up in a wistful half-smile as he gazed at her.

“Looks like a resort planet, but where’s the booze?” Mick wondered. “And who’s this bozo?” An alien was striding towards them, a large man with green skin that almost matched the color of the sky. He was dressed simply in shades of beige and cream, his clothing loose and comfortable-looking, his enormous feet bare, all fifteen toes of them.

The alien smiled genially and said warmly, “Welcome, guests, to Fossinandra IV. I am Gallin, vice president of the Fossinandran Council. Sir Reginald is a longtime associate, as we often trade our planet’s food with him for medical technology. He has asked me to assist you in your mission, which I am more than happy to do. Please remove your shoes.”

“Our what now?” Sara demanded, annoyed.

Mick had already kicked his off, noting, “My kind of place.”

They left their socks and shoes in a pile on the sand and followed their host towards the tall gates of the city, Rip taking this first opportunity to talk to Sara relatively alone, since the others were lagging behind arguing over what they thought the texture of the sand was most similar to.

“Bath soap beads,” Amaya said, but Mick and Nate shook their heads.

“No way,” Nate argued, “Silly putty.”

“You’ve got silly putty for brains, Pretty,” Mick accused with a chuckle. “It feels like…soft jelly marbles.”

“In other words, bath soap beads,” Amaya replied, and Sara had to agree. The sand was amazingly soft and pleasant to the touch, the small grains circular, gelatinous, and massaging against her tired flesh as she walked. It was clear to see why the Fossinandrans didn’t wear or like shoes. 

Her slight reverie of temporary comfort was interrupted as Rip came hurrying up to walk beside her. “So that’s it then?” He asked, too far into her personal space for comfort, “You’re just not going to speak to me?”

“That’s the plan in general, _sweetie_ , but since we’re on a mission together, I guess I don’t have much of a choice but to talk to you occasionally. So listen, Director Benedict Arnold, DeBoer might’ve put you in charge of this half of the team, but I’m calling the shots. Why did he insist on you being here, anyway?” Sara ended her tirade with the question that had been nagging at her since DeBoer’s arrival and the unfurling of his crazy scheme.

“Because I know the Rodriguez’ and their methods all too well from past encounters Reg and I have had with them. Sara, please,” Rip said, pausing to take her gently by the shoulders. The tentative brush of his fingers against her skin, left exposed by her White Canary costume, made Sara’s heart jump, and she stared at him defenselessly for a beat. “Can’t we get past all this? You know how much I care about you, about the whole team, whatever our disagreements and however they have damaged our friendship.”

“‘Our _disagreements_?” Sara said sharply, almost yelling. “You lied to me, Rip. You made me believe that you cared enough about me and what the threat of Darhk’s return meant to _me_ to put aside your ego and your desperate, _pathetic_ insistence on doing everything your way! Not to mention that you used me and my team, my ship, like pawns. As if it weren’t weird enough that you went against the policies of the Time Bureau after you invented them to keep order, you also betrayed the exact same concepts of friendship and loyalty that the Legends were built on!”

“Sara, I know I went about things in a way that hurt you, and I sincerely regret that, but if you’re expecting an apology from me for prioritizing Mallus’ capture above all else, you’ll not be hearing one,” Rip replied, looking utterly and rather torturously torn between hating what he’d done to her and the rest of the Legends, and being unable to disagree with his past choices, since he still felt that the threat of Mallus was the worst the universe and the timeline had ever faced.

“Rip, I don’t expect anything from you,” Sara answered, her voice jagged with bitterness. Her eyes bore into his, sparkling with unshed tears, her lips shaking, prompting his grip on her to tighten slightly, an offer of comfort he couldn’t seem to resist. “That was my first mistake, and I kept making it over and over again, until you fired the team and threw us aside like we never even mattered to you. Until you drew me back into your little game just to stab me in the back yet again. I won’t be making that mistake ever again.” 

Rip shook his head, wounded. Sara looked again at his sad eyes, his handsome and intelligent face so clearly conveying his anguish over her words that dammit all, she actually felt sorry for him. Actually wished that instead of being infuriated with Rip, instead of tearing their friendship into tiny shreds and lighting them on fire, she could keep him with her forever. She caved momentarily into the helpless instinctual fantasy of taking his face in her hands and kissing him, feeling the hot press of his lips against hers, the sweet animal pounding of his heart against her palm. But it could never be, not after what he had done.

It was Sara’s turn now to shake her head, standing there with Rip, close enough that they were nearly embracing, his hands still holding her desperately, hopelessly, and despite everything without her objection. “I just wish this didn’t feel so good,” She admitted aloud, leaning closer without realizing she’d done so until a moment later, when their faces were perilously near to touching and her own words rang in her ears like an alarm bell.

Sara jolted back from Rip’s arms and he looked at her in astonishment.

“What did you just say?” He asked, the spell broken between them as Sara’s mouth went dry, panic flooding her body and mind.

She had completely forgotten Gideon’s warning about the atmosphere on Fossinandra IV forcing anyone who breathed it in to speak only the truth. _Shit!_ She thought, terrified, _How am I going to get through this with him?_

“Something stupid,” Sara answered acidly, forcing her limbs into motion, quickening her pace more and more as she drove her body forward after Gallin. Looking back over her shoulder at Rip, she added, “Just pretend you misheard me.”

“I don’t think I did, actually,” Rip argued, and the chemistry between them surged more powerfully then ever, the sexual tension tightened to a near breaking point by the mixture of anger and desire. But he said no more about it, to Sara’s infinite relief.

One thing was for sure: the way Sara knew she should feel about Rip in her heart of hearts, and how she _actually_ felt couldn’t have been more different. And despite her own pride and her rightfully hurt feelings, she truly had no idea what she was going to do with the man.


	3. Chapter 2: Lost boy

Gallin explained that the council had discovered the location of Esmer Rodriguez’ lair, where the preservation cube half was hidden. 

“We must wait until morning before setting out,” Gallin elaborated. “The locking mechanism on the door depends on the sunlight refracting through a specific lens only at one particular time in the morning. If we are a moment too early or late, we shall have to wait yet another day to retrieve Sir Reginald’s stolen invention.”

Mick’s eyes lit up, though he ignored the high five which Nate offered him. “I don’t mind checking out the night life around here,” Rory enthused.

“My thoughts exactly,” Nate agreed, dropping his hand.

Sara and Amaya both sighed, and Rip just stalked off after Gallin to ask where they would be staying. Once the Legends had been provided with comfortable lodging, complete with hot baths and fresh clothing, Sara had managed to settle her mind down and accept that she was going to have to wait longer than planned to get that stupid piece of the cube and end this hideous mission.

She stepped into the tub, unwilling at first to even admit to herself how soothing the water felt against her exhausted skin, muscles, and bones until she heard herself actually sigh out loud. “This is nice,” she murmured, resenting the Planet of Honesty, though at least she was alone this second time an unwanted truth slipped out. When she was done bathing, Sara slipped into the sand-hued gown which had been laid out for her by their Fossinandran hosts. She tucked a towel around her shoulders so that her wet hair could air-dry and went back into the common room, where Amaya was sitting at a small table, holding up a mint-green wafer as if trying to decide if she should eat it.

“You should eat that,” Sara advised, sinking into the chair across from her and reaching for her glass of blue liquid. Aha. It tasted not at all unlike blueberries, though just a tiny bit more tart. Not bad. “We’re stuck here, so looks like we’re doing the whole tour of Fossinandran culture, food included.” She took a tiny bite of her own wafer. Tasted like a broccoli-flavored cracker. “Eh, could be worse,” she reasoned.

“This stuff is halfway decent,” Amaya remarked, lifting a spork-like utensil filled with a food closely resembling couscous.

“Yesss,” Sara said, lifting the serving utensil to put some of it on her own plate from the large bowl in the middle of the table. “Carbs. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“So,” Amaya remarked, switching gears, her expression curious but careful, “It looked like you and Rip were having a pretty intense confrontation earlier.”

“Nice dress,” Sara replied cooly, changing the subject. Amaya’s lavender nightgown really was lovely, and she’d rather talk about anything other than Rip right now.

“Thanks. Listen, I’m not going to pry when we’re here of all places. I don’t want you telling me secrets you’d never otherwise divulge,” Amaya reassured her. “I’m only saying that I’m here for you if you _do_ want to talk.”

“I appreciate that, Amaya. If I start to feel that way, you’ll be the first to know.” Sara carried on eating, noticing that her friend’s sympathetic brown eyes lingered on her, concerned, for a moment longer. 

“What the hell is this?” Mick growled at the meager offering of food, coming in wearing beige-colored matching pajamas that made both women burst into giggles. “Shut up,” he barked. “I”m making this work.”

“No,” Nate argued playfully, entering in his own, light-blue version of the snug ensemble, “ _I_ am making it work.”

“No meat?” Mick asked, disappointed, flopping into a seat at the table.

“Better load up on this ricey thing,” Sara advised. He scowled disapprovingly, but ladled an enormous helping onto his plate over Nate’s objections that he leave some for everyone else.

“Okay, guys, just eat up and hit the hay,” Sara continued, “The sooner we get off this freakazoid truth rock, the better.”

“Somebody doesn’t like all this honesty,” Mick grunted, exceedingly amused, taking a gulp of blue liquid that he’d spiked with his flask. “I noticed that Englishman seems to have the same problem. Interesting coincidence.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. It was infuriating, Sara thought, the way Mick would stand up for her against anyone else but felt free to say whatever offensive things he wanted to her himself. Then again, being here on Fossinandra might’ve made even Rory’s tongue looser…nah. It was probably just the liquor and Mick being Mick. If anyone had an immunity to this place, it had to be the one guy so rude that he kept almost nothing to himself.

Sara stood up, scooped some of the food from Mick’s plate onto her own and grabbed her glass before storming off to her room. “Hey!” He called after her.

“You never learn, Rory,” She called to him. Distantly, she heard Amaya add, “You had that coming” as Nate chimed in with a chortle, “Stolen food, the ultimate revenge!”

Sara finished her meal, did her best with the bizarre version of a toothbrush she had to work with, and almost jumped into bed, yanking the blankets close around her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. She longed to simply wish herself past this awful experience, being stuck in this place and on this mission with Rip. But it was never going to be that easy.

*******************************************************************************************

Gallin carefully poised the square-shaped lens on an intricate lock structure attached to the wall of a rough-hewn, man-made cave. The Rodriguez siblings had apparently built this lair by tunneling out the bottom of a mountain. Sara couldn’t imagine doing something that stupidly, impossibly dangerous, but as cool-looking headquarters went, she had to admit that this was right up there.

The lock clicked as the sun shone through the lens, then Gallen reached out to open the heavy door. “This way,” he beckoned quietly. They headed down a hallway lit by torches on the walls, then found themselves in a large room absolutely filled with loot. There were actual treasure chests overflowing with gold coins and jewelry, plus crate upon crate of weaponry. 

“Rory,” Sara snapped as soon as they went in. His eyes had lit up so brightly that Sara almost needed sunglasses. “No.”

“It’s highly unlikely that Esmer would allow us to get this far into his lair without apprehending us,” Rip murmured suspiciously.

“Yup, this has trap written _allll_ over it,” Nate agreed.

“Can’t that be said about approximately nine out of ten of our missions?” Amaya asked. 

“Ah, the life of a Legend,” Nate concurred drily.

“Indeed,” A new voice piped up. “I suppose it never occurred to dear old Reg that I might have an ulterior, secondary motive to stealing his admittedly cool as fuck invention.” A comely but sleazy-looking man in his late thirties came striding into the light, tossing and catching a giant ruby as if it were as casually valuable to him as a child’s rubber ball.

“Esmer Rodriguez, I presume,” Amaya guessed, putting a hand to her necklace as Sara reached for her batons and Mick wielded his heat gun threateningly.

“My, my, my, I can tell you’re happy to see me,” Esmer drawled in a thick American Southern accent, unworried. His dark hair was slicked back with far too much gel and his tan skin glistened as if he’d recently applied greasy lotion. He wore plain black attire, the shirt unbuttoned to reveal an equally shiny upper chest. His glistening boots, complete with silver spurs, contributed to the overall effect. It was an attempt at looking badass that landed somewhere closer to a cheap pirate Halloween costume or an unwitting audition for _US Weekly’s_ Fashion Police page.

“If you want the piece of the cube you came for, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to lower your weapons,” Esmer warned, tossing the ruby to Nate, who let it sail right past his shoulder and hit the ground as Mick rolled his eyes.

“Ever heard of multi-tasking?” Mick mumbled to his teammate, who shrugged.

Esmer withdrew one hand from his pocket to reveal the cube piece. “Isn’t this what you came for?”

“Why would you give that to us just because we lowered our weapons?” Sara asked. Rip shook his head.

“He’ll never give it to us. And since he’s keeping it on his person, our job just got a lot harder.” Rip nodded behind them, where armed henchmen came flooding in, wresting the Legends’ weaponry from them. Amaya’s eyes lit up as she tried to summon an animal power, but one of the goons smacked her upside the head with the end of their gun, sending her to the ground.

“You’ll regret that,” Sara said coldly. “Ideas, Rip? You know this guy. You’re here _because_ you know this guy. What can we do?”

“I think we’d best listen to his villain’s monologue first and then figure out a retaliatory strategy,” Rip suggested under his breath.

“So anyway, did Reggie tell you that in order for the cube to work, it has to sort of suck the life energy out of a whole bunch of people? Yeah, so I’m not getting a lot of volunteers for that part, but I am getting just so many offers to pay me for the life-extending services I can provide with a fully powered cube. Now, I don’t mind killing random so-and-so’s to gather that energy for my customers, but I much prefer taking the life of someone I despise as much as I do—” He pointed at Rip like a game show host announcing a winner. “This guy!”

“The feeling is mutual, Esmer, and by the way, Reg hates being called ‘Reggie.’” Rip sighed, his hands still held aloft. 

“I know,” Esmer grinned, revealing a garish grill encrusted with gems. 

“Ewww,” Nate said, cringing. 

Sara stepped in front of Rip, an unmistakably protective move which caused him to glance at her in surprise. “You’re not killing any of us. I’m going to give you one more chance to hand over that device before we make you sorry you ever saw it.”

Esmer rubbed his chin in theatrical, fake contemplation before replying, “Nah! I think I’ll just kill you all in a bit. Business will be booming with all that energy for my cube. Take them away for now; I need to make some preparations.” The minions grabbed the Legends and roughly deposited them in a cell.

“God, I’m getting sick of cells,” Rip complained, shifting uncomfortably on the rough-hewn rock floor.

“What’s this guy’s backstory?” Sara asked, still avoiding his eyes, still very much aware of his gaze every time it felt on her, even without looking back.

“He’s a member of an law enforcement squad from my time,” Rip explained, “He’s the most despicable version of the sort of person you would refer to as a ‘dirty cop.’ He uses his power and resources as an officer to benefit his horrifying side operation. At least Reg thinks he has some grand purpose, restoring lost geniuses to life and protecting the universe’s most precious artwork. The Rodriguez twins only care about profit, an endless and insatiable craving they’ll never stop trying to feed.”

“Only thing worse than a pig is a dirty pig,” Mick said darkly, gently arranging the still-unconscious Amaya and making sure that her back was supported on the wall as much as it was possible. “Huh,” he reflected a beat later, “I didn’t know I thought that.”

They sat their in the cell, Sara and Rip doing their best imitation of two people ignoring each other. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was about to open her mouth around him again until they left this planet, not unless it was impossible to avoid. Who knew what she might let slip?

Was Rip remaining quiet to her for the same reason?

Why did she care? Sara had time, listening to Mick and Nate bicker as Amaya grumbled at them to quiet down so she could think. She had time to run back the tape in her memory, the history of her relationship with Rip Hunter. His lost boy eyes, searing into her and making her want him from the first encounter. The way their past scars seemed to understand each other, a depth of understanding that could be communicated in the briefest glance, the reassuring touch of his fingers to her shoulder, the clinking together of two drink glasses at a quiet moment. The feeling between them was like nothing she’d ever known. Sara didn’t think her heart would ever let it go, no matter what her pride and her resentment dictated.

In fact, it was so hard to ignore him that it hurt, actually hurt more than the way he’d let her down. Sara’s chin lifted a tiny bit and then she summoned the nerve to look over at Rip. Of course, the instant he sensed her eyes on him, he looked back. There was no anger there, no pride anymore at this moment. Just a melancholy sort of regret and a depth of affection towards her that made her heart skip a beat. She was glad she had looked. It didn’t make any sense, she supposed, but she surrendered to a small, soft, tired smile. 

The other three were still busy debating escape plans and didn’t notice or care when Rip shifted closer to Sara, speaking her name quietly, intently.

She loved the way her name sounded on his tongue. Although he never failed to speak it with confidence, the slight quaver of emotion in his tone made it obvious that he fully understood the significance of this tiny exchange between them. Just one look and a word, just a step or two closer together. The admission that they should really talk. 

But before she could respond, several of Esmer’s guards came in. They opened the cell just long enough to drag Sara and Rip out, then slammed it again as the others shouted various complaints and threats.

Words failed them again, not out of worry over the truths they might tell, but the premonition of dread that had taken over. This didn’t look good, not after what Esmer had told them of his planned use of the cube to suck out the Legends’ life energy. Could he do that with only one half of the cube? Sara guessed they were about to find out.

“Alright, y’all, let’s get started,” Esmer said as Sara and Rip were led into a thrown-together-looking medical bay. Four cots and various jerry-rigged contraptions with dubious clinical applications, a few IV stands and a cabinet of pills and potions comprised the unwelcoming setting. 

Esmer clapped his hands together in merriment and then rubbed them together as if to emphasize his good mood. He then pouted slightly at Sara. “Oh, I’m sorry about you and your other two friends, darlin’. It may be personal for me to want to watch Rip die an awful death, but as far as your concerned, you ain’t done nothin’ to me and I got nothin’ against ya. Still! Watching him react when I kill you is gonna be a blast. Again, truly sorry.”

“You really have some charming old friends,” Sara griped to Rip as the guards forced her onto one of the cots and strapped her down. Esmer held out the cube half theatrically as Rip strained against the other guards who held him firmly in place.

“Sara,” Rip said with unbearable tenseness, utterly miserable. Heartbroken. “No.” Esmer approached Sara and Rip screamed the word this time. “No! Stop!”

“All said, I’m kind of wishing I’d been sent to the planet of the vines,” Sara remarked. “Wow, I’m terrified, but that can translate itself into sarcasm. Good to know, even if this is my last moment to realize pretty much anything.”

She steeled herself, fingers grasping around the underside of the cot, looking for a way to break free, knowing she would be thinking and fighting against defeat as long as there was breath in her lungs. Across the room, Rip simply snapped. 

“ _No!_ ” he shrieked, wresting free from the burly guards with a superhuman-seeming surge of naked adrenaline. Esmer was so entirely surprised by the development that Rip had no difficulty in grabbing the cube half from his grip, then smashing their captor on the head until he hit the floor with a heavy thump. 

Taking Esmer’s sidearm, he leveled it at the remaining guards while the other hand held the now bloodied cube. “After what you just saw,” Rip said aggressively, “Do you doubt that I will blow you away if you try to stop us from leaving this place? Go and sit on the floor over there. Handcuff each other and don’t move an inch if you ever want to draw breath again.” The guards complied wordlessly, equally as shocked as their former boss.

“He’s dead,” Sara said bluntly, also somewhat unable to believe what had just happened. Rip undid the straps holding her down and she sat up, fingers flying to his face, needing to know if he was okay. Because he didn’t look okay at all. 

Rip took a ragged breath and looked down at his reddened hands, then the trail of blood that had also left its mark on the white straps and Sara’s muted-grey tunic. “He was going to kill you,” he muttered, delirious, the desperate words emerging from some half-trance that still held his mind. “He was going to suck the life from you and then _sell_ that life to someone else. I had to do that, Sara.” He was staring at some vague point in the distance, seeing nothing. Sara tipped his face towards her, needing to understand. Oddly, needing to soothe him somehow. “There was nothing else I could do.”

Maybe it didn’t make sense, and maybe nothing about their connection ever would, but Sara had lost track of why that mattered. She wrapped her arms around Rip and laid her head against his heartbeat, feeling his arms go limp as his hands, laden with weapons, fell downward.


	4. Chapter 3: Neverland

“Stupid-ass vines,” Jax grumbled, cutting a path forward through what seemed like the billionth outgrowth of the thick, swaying plants they’d encountered that day. 

“Yes, it’s quite typical of Esme to have concealed her headquarters within the most obnoxiously difficult-to-reach location in the known universe,” DeBoer said more smoothly, adjusting his fedora. He was outfitted in full jungle-explorer wear, impeccably attractive and perfectly dressed for the occasion as always.

“When the hell are we going to _get_ there?” Zari groaned, chugging from her water bottle. While DeBoer wore the combination of sweat and a good dusting of dirt like he was on his way to an Indiana Jones-themed fashion shoot, the Legends he’d brought with him were disheveled and low on morale.

“I must echo Ms. Tomaz’s sentiments,” Martin concurred, wiping his brow and pausing to get his breath back. They’d been walking many miles, heading towards a lair that was impossible to access via any other means of transportation. “When we do arrive, I have every intention of scolding this Esme for adding to her general villainy with such a dreadful choice of locales.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that from you, Professor,” DeBoer chuckled, “If she doesn’t have you beheaded on sight. We’re trying to avoid the reach of her more unsavory habits by being exceptionally sneaky in our approach. Sneak in, grab the cube half, sneak out, stay alive, for heaven’s sake. Everyone, do try to keep your heads about you, as it may be the only way to keep them.”

“How are you so chill right now, anyway?” Zari demanded, squinting at DeBoer as if determined to figure him out. She leaned closer to him and then shook her head, her ponytail bobbing. “Don’t smile at me like that.”

“What?” DeBoer asked, giving her his number one most blinding grin. “You’re very attractive, darling. Is it my fault that when you’re quite so near to me, I notice? They do say that opposites attract, you know. My suave, sophisticated nature could be the perfect counter for your own more wild, sassy-pants disposition.”

Zari leveled him with a glare that seemed to question if he could have _really_ just said that. “Don’t call me sassy-pants,” she said finally, grabbing his hat and placing it on her own head, a protection from the cruel sunlight pounding down on them. The heat of the sun was more aggressive the further they cut through the vines. They were removing the only things blocking out the brutal and sweat-inducing light.

“You can keep it,” DeBoer winked as Zari scowled and stalked off, or did her best version of stalking off given that she had to slice through enormous green vines to do so.

“And then there’s that,” Jax complained, nodding above them. Ray went swinging by, making a quiet but distinct Tarzan yell. “Would you please cut that out? It’s been hours, man!”

“Sorry,” Ray replied sheepishly. He dropped to the ground at an awkward angle, then dusted his knees off, grinning at his traveling companions. “That just never gets old.”

“Right then, Team Sugar Puffs, this is it,” DeBoer said suddenly, stopping so short that Jax bumped into him, then the other Legends all got a firm bump backwards in a domino effect. 

“You wanna give us some kind of warning when you’re gonna do that, dude?” Jax complained, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“And please stop referring to us as sugar puffs,” Martin added crisply. “I find the term insulting. Due to his eternally, often inappropriately chipper disposition, only Dr. Palmer here may be strictly labeled a sugar puff.”

“That’s my favorite flavor of cereal,” DeBoer smirked at Ray, who remained oblivious, distracted by investigating the spot in the jungle where they’d stopped.

Zari rolled her eyes and asked, “Is there _anyone_ you don’t flirt with?”

DeBoer stepped closer to her again and replied archly, “I like to spread my flirtation around quite liberally, Sassy-pants, but I do have my favorites.” His wink earned him another scowl from Zari, who turned away to hide the slight blush spreading over her cheeks.

“Is this Esme’s hideout?” Ray squinted into a large hole in the ground. Vines extended deep down, providing the way to descend for anyone who couldn’t fly.

“Yes, we’ve finally arrived! Isn’t it exciting?” DeBoer enthused, though a certain worried glint in his eyes seemed to contrast with his encouraging words.

Ray’s Atom suit appeared on him so quickly that DeBoer did a double-take, impressed.

“Yeah, I’m trying to beat Iron Man’s speed,” Ray explained, “In the Infinity Wars trailer. Got to keep up to date, you know.” He extended a hand to Zari, offering to fly her down into the hideout. She nodded gratefully, then smiled at DeBoer.

“Enjoy your climb,” Zari winked as she was swiftly conveyed below, Jax and Stein becoming Firestorm long enough to fly down as well. They separated to get their bearings as DeBoer descended the long way, unbothered and still regarding Zari with increasing interest.

DeBoer whipped out a futuristic flashlight bright enough to illuminate the whole chamber in which they had landed. It was empty and dim, but there was a tunnel in front of them and a light at the end of it…not the promising, comforting sort.

No, instead, it was the light of several blaster gun targets blazing up across the Legends’ and DeBoer’s chests as they put their hands up. 

“Sneaky, sneaky,” Jax snarked, but DeBoer merely shrugged.

“We barely made a sound coming in. There must be itty bitty cameras hidden in the—” 

“In the vines,” Martin guessed, rolling his eyes.

“I wish we’d gone to the Truth Planet instead,” Zari pouted.

A tall, curvy woman with lush, long multicolored hair swinging about her shoulders stepped out of the shadows, weapon trained on DeBoer immediately, a vicious smile twisting her lips. The scar that ran from her forehead to her chin, plus the malevolent glint in her brown eyes, ruined any suggestions of playfulness brought up by her hairstyle.

“Hello again, Reggie,” Esme Rodriguez sneered. “Come to get your cube half, I take it. Not exactly the most subtle of arrivals.”

“Esme,” DeBoer nodded cooly. “It’s basically impossible to make a covert entrance to a vine pit spiked with surveillance, so spare me your dubious critiques, ay? I certainly caught you enough times in the past, and stuffed you in enough Time Master cells to make up for it.”

Esme laughed, the sound hollow, striding closer to her long-time foe. “I certainly escaped enough times to prove what a pathetic organization the Time Masters actually are. I mean, did they ever really accomplish a damn thing, stop any actual crisis?”

“Cheers, darling, I can’t truly disagree there. That’s why I went rogue myself a few years back, and now we’re caught up; isn’t that lovely? Assuming you aren’t going to offer us a cup of tea, how about you hand over that cube half, _or_ …” He waved his hand around to indicate his companions.

“Finally,” Jax sighed gratefully, giving Martin a high five as they surged back into Firestorm. Zari pressed her totem and it flared ruby red as Ray ascended slightly into the air. Esme looked around at the Legends, unfazed.

“That all you got?” She nodded at the minions behind her. Each of them immediately revealed meta abilities, from a muscular man who chuckled darkly and shifted into a werewolf-esque creature, to a petite young girl with a bloodthirsty glare who lifted her hands to show off the balls of energy she wielded, covered with painful-looking spikes. Four more metas fanned out behind them, their powers equally imposing.

“Now it’s a party,” Jax reasoned as in his mind, Martin chided him for enjoying this scuffle a little too much. “Sorry, Grey. Time to blow off some steam.” The two groups of fighters charged at each other, colliding into battle as DeBoer and Esme remained frozen in their renewed grudge, guns pointed squarely at each other.

“You took my ship,” DeBoer almost hissed, more angry than he usually let on. “You took the greatest invention I ever devised. And soon, you’re going to regret crossing me. Just like old times.”

“‘Your’ ship, ‘your’ cube, it’s all about perception, and to thieves like my brother and me, the concept of property is quite a bit more…fluid.” When she grinned again, wolfish, her teeth were sharp, as if she’d had them altered somehow. Absent of any superhuman abilities, she bore the appearance of a frightening nemesis all the same.

“Eww,” DeBoer shivered, “How very garish.”

Nearby, the Legends were fighting boldly, but had only taken out one of Esme’s crew. Soon, the others began getting the upper hand, the wolfman finally catching a miniaturized Ray between two fingers and cackling threateningly. 

“Dammit, I really wish the shrink ray wasn’t back on the Wave Rider, waiting for me to implement repairs, or else we could’ve just rendered these baddies tiny and pathetic on sight,” Ray commented regretfully. “Shit, I wasn’t going to call it the shrink ray.”

Zari’s eyes grew bright with panic when she noticed that Ray was about to be squashed. Still, with Firestorm deeply enmeshed in battle with the teen fury who was hurling her energy orbs at them, all Zari could do was think of how she could possibly save Ray — a bad question to ask in the face of the impossible.

Suddenly, however, a new fighter dropped down from above, landing squarely on the wolfman’s back and whacking him heavily with a baton. Sara jumped down, retrieved Ray from the meta’s fingers as they opened on the ground, and smiled into her palm at her friend. “Having a ‘little’ trouble, Ray?” She set him down, where he reemerged at his regular size and gave her a hug.

“You’re here!” he sang out, just as Amaya, Nate and Mick joined them. The numbers on either side of the fight were even, enabling the Legends to soundly defeat their new enemies. Soon, a pile of groaning, disoriented metas lay on the moist dirt, while Sara crossed her arms and smiled coldly at Esme.

“Guys!” DeBoer cried in relief, “However did you get here?”

“Oh,” Sara remarked, smacking a meta foe in the head when she tried to get back up, “That. Well, we recently paid a little visit to your brother, Esme. We definitely left…our mark on him. And when we were done there, we found the _Paradise,_ docked in his headquarters, complete with some very confused famous people on board. In case you’re wondering where Rip is, he dropped us off here before heading out to return your kidnapping victims to their correct timelines, DeBoer.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” DeBoer complained. Despite his disappointment, his gun never wavered from its position of threatening Esme. “Rude.”

“When Rip gets back, I know he’ll be glad to hear that we have the other half of the cube and can finally end this whole messed-up ordeal,” Sara continued. “You three are the kind of crooks who make Rory here look like a sweetheart.”

“No one makes me look like a sweetheart, sweetheart,” Mick objected with a chuckle.

“So,” Sara proposed, “how about you hand over the cube half, sister? Before we give you the same treatment we gave Esmer.”

Esme blinked at her in horror. “What have you done to my brother?”

“Aren’t you twins?” Sara inquired, stepping closer so that she and Esme were face to face. “I can’t believe you didn’t feel it.”

Normally, she wouldn’t be quite so callous about someone dying, but the Rodriguez’ whole agenda was so unforgivably cruel and selfish that she couldn’t seem to hold back her venomous resentment. 

The moment of shock when her brother’s death registered on Esme’s face gave DeBoer the opening he needed to knock her out. “Ah, a bit of fisticuffs is always a treat,” he grinned, wiping his knuckles on his tan jacket.

“Guys, split up,” Sara said immediately to the Legends, “Go and find the other cube half. I’ll take DeBoer and go get our ship back, then pick you up.”

“I said you could have the Wave Rider back when I had both halves of the preservation cube,” DeBoer tried to argue, but Sara waved him off. 

“How about I trade you a ship for a ship and you shut the hell up? Oh, Ray, hold on. Can you fly Esme and me out of here, please? I’m going to put her on lockdown aboard the Sandstorm. Once we leave, I’ll drop a line to the Time Bureau so they can come get her.”

“Oh, perfect,” Ray nodded, holding Esme up as he prepared to ascend out of the pit, “They can take Rip back at the same time.”

“Maybe not,” Sara replied thoughtfully. If she’d said as much to any of the other Legends, they might have chewed her out, but in Ray’s warm, kind eyes there was no judgement. She knew from his face that he didn’t necessarily agree, but he still cared about Rip. He would wait it out and hear her reasoning before rejecting the idea.

“Okay, boss,” Ray nodded.

********************************************************************************

“What the bloody hell is this?” DeBoer demanded, staring down at the cube half which Sara had handed him once they returned to the _Paradise_. “And I actually mean that quite literally. One half of my most unbelievably important invention, returned to me covered in blood, and…fucking hell, Sara, is that _brain?”_

“Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, Reg. You wanted to know what happened to Esmer?” Sara cocked her head to one side, her wry smile anything but simple. It indicated an exhaustion with this whole operation that ate down to her very bones. “Now you know. I don’t have a ton of experience in cleaning life-sucking-and-restoring cubes, so I figured that I’d leave that to you. Wouldn’t want to damage it and risk not getting my ship back.”

“Ugh,” DeBoer replied, “Fair enough, love.”

“No, it’s not fair,” Sara retorted, grabbing his jacket and pulling him closer aggressively, letting just a tiny bit of her fury towards him show. She repeated the words he’d said to Esme in such moral indignation. “You took my ship.”

“Desperate times,” he tried to argue, but Sara shook her head, her expression fierce.

“You took my _ship_ and you took control of my team,” Sara elaborated. “You don’t do that. Take us back to the Wave Rider right now and get the hell away from me if you know what’s good for you. Stay here until we give you your other precious cube half and then _go._ ”

“Right you are,” DeBoer agreed shakily, stepping back from her vice-like grip as it relaxed slightly. “Sorry for the inconvenience. But what do you mean, ‘we,’ pumpkin? Are you sure Rip made it back from dropping my guests home? Sure he didn’t decide to linger in 18th century England a bit longer, escape the Time Bureau clink, maybe even get ‘Lost in Austen’ for a while? Believe me, if you’d seen her in person, you’d get the appeal.”

As if in answer to his old frenemy’s question, Rip entered the bridge, bearing a thin facade of composure achieved from his rigid posture and neat appearance. He’d changed out of the loose, soft Fossinandran tunic and trousers and wore all-black, his hair slicked precisely into place, the whole look lending him a formal, funereal appearance.

“Damn,” DeBoer whistled as he took in the sight of Rip wearing clothes borrowed from the _Paradise _’s considerable wardrobe, “If it doesn’t look better on you than it did on me.”__

__Sara wasn’t fooled by the efficiency with which Rip had returned Jane Austen and the other kidnapped celebrities to their timelines, nor the look of nonchalance he’d forced his features to approximate. She saw the shake in his arms and noticed the way he was clasping his hands behind his back. There was nothing natural about his mood._ _

__Rip didn’t say a word, but sat down and prepared for the voyage back to the Wave Rider. On the way there, DeBoer monologued on and on about his various concerns and future plans to make a profit off of his invention without killing anyone. He complained at length about the moral bankruptcy of _some thieves_ , but Sara and Rip didn’t hear a word. Rip stared ahead at the viewscreen as they shot through space, stars rippling past, his hands gradually coming to rest, still folded and half-concealed, at his knees. After watching him for a while, Sara decided to stay quiet until they could be alone to talk._ _

__They took a shuttle to the Wave Rider and then sent it back to the _Paradise_ on autopilot. Finally, as Gideon activated their course to retrieve the rest of the team, with DeBoer following to collect the rest of his invention, Sara and Rip had a wisp of time and space to themselves. She’d have to make the most of it._ _

__“Come on,” she said very softly, taking him by the arm. He flinched, but let her guide him to the med bay, where she nodded to him, indicating that he should sit down on a cot. “Give me those,” she added, reaching for his hands._ _

__“No,” he tried to argue feebly, “No,” but Sara’s warm, comforting touch unfolded his fists, revealing the brutalized flesh at his knuckles, the half-dried blood there clashing with the way he’d tried to put himself back together. He was falling apart._ _

__“Rip,” Sara breathed, shaking her head._ _

__“Reg is going to be bloody pissed when he sees his walls,” Rip grinned, the smile a grim mockery of happiness._ _

__“Why did you do this?” She got the medical kit and began cleaning his wounds. Although she dabbed at what was left of the skin over his knuckles with alcohol, he never even flinched. On the contrary, he seemed to be enjoying the searing pain. That realization stabbed into the part of Sara which she’d been trying to kill since the day he betrayed them and Darhk walked away free. The part of Sara that loved Rip. She knew that if she nurtured it, admitted it to her conscious mind, it would consume her._ _

__He just shook his head, but Sara’s heart felt like it was exploding with pain and she took his face in her hands, staring into his helpless, endlessly deep blue eyes. Falling off the edge and back into love with him, as if she’d ever really left.__

"Rip, I can't stand this! I can't! Tell me why you did this to yourself." She wrapped his hands hurriedly and snugly in soft bandages.

“I don’t know what to say to you anymore, Sara,” he admitted, captive to her gaze. “I let you down, I let the whole team down, and my stupid pride made me try to act like that didn’t matter. In reality, it’s all that matters, _you’re_ all that matters. Every choice I’ve made since the day I chose to leave you has been an absolute disgrace, a total nightmare. Now everything has spiraled to the point where I just can’t seem to wake up.”

__

__“Stop it, don’t say that, don’t punish yourself. I’ve been where you are, hating yourself for your mistakes. For one thing, creating the Time Bureau wasn’t such a small accomplishment, even if you were wrong about how you treated the Legends afterwards. And even the way you went after Mallus so single-mindedly, it all only shows that you were trying to help. You meant to do good, Rip. But sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”_ _

__

__His face fell to one side against her palm, the beard that he’d allowed to begin growing back scratching her skin, tingling her nerve endings. He closed his eyes and tears squeezed out, trailing from his long eyelashes and landing in Sara’s fingers._ _

__

__“Don’t you understand, Sara? It _never_ works out for me. Never. Being a Time Master. Having a family with my wife and son, then trying to have a family here with this team. It all falls apart, every single time. I don’t know what’s left of me anymore. That idiotic pride was the only glue holding me together when this mission began, and now I can’t summon it back. I’m just a shell. Useless. I can’t anymore, Sara, I can’t. I feel like I’m just going to disintegrate.”_ _

__

__She drew him against her chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly, stroking his back. It ought to have been a scandalous posture, his face resting against the rounded cleavage above the top of her Canary costume and her standing between his legs, but the moment was so desperate that she couldn’t imagine doing anything but what her instincts commanded._ _

__

__Rip was having a long overdue breakdown, the result of post-traumatic stress and personal tragedy repressed and covered with bravado for so long that its power over him now was nearly absolute._ _

__

__Sara refused to lose him to that pummeling tide. “I’m here,” she murmured against the top of his head. She sat down beside him, stroking tears from his cheeks, her heart hammering in some insane mixture of panic for his well-being and desperate adoration, Sara herself beginning to tremble from the strength of the emotion. And she wasn’t given to trembling, not after all she’d experienced in her life._ _

__

__Her cheeks were wet, she noticed distantly, and Rip was staring downward, punishingly, denying himself the solace of her gaze and half-shrinking from her touch, unwilling to take lifeboats he didn’t deserve._ _

__

__“It’s fine,” he said thickly, “I’ll manage. Let me stew in that prison cell, I deserve it. Anything I’d try to do to stop Mallus now would only make it all worse. That’s my track record.”_ _

__

__“I’m not sending you back there,” Sara insisted._ _

__

__“Sara, I’m responsible for possibly the most specifically offensive and probably unfixable betrayal against you that anyone has ever perpetrated.” She knew what he meant, that Darhk seemed more powerful than ever, that he’d be almost impossible to catch and subdue even if he wasn’t apparently in league with Mallus. As it was…the situation was so far gone that it felt every bit as doomed as he suggested._ _

__

__“I know that,” she admitted, fingers grazing his jawline, “And I don’t care. Just come back to me, Rip.”_ _

__

__“I,” Rip tried to begin, but words failed him completely in the face of her awe-inspiring acceptance, the bright light of her sympathy shining into the darkness he’d been living in._ _

__

__“I forgive you,” Sara said with her whole heart, just before their lips met, both of them moving forward out of sheer, irrepressible need. Rip caught her mouth with his hungry, searching kiss. The taste and feel of his lips, his tongue, his ragged breath made her head spin. “I forgive you,” she repeated, speaking the words against his lips._ _

__

__Rip’s fingers wove into her hair as he pulled her in for a deeper kiss, the heat between them building until Sara moaned. She kissed his neck, trailing her lips down as she unbuttoned his shirt and found his heart. Laying her hand there, she blinked back more tears, then lowered her head to press her lips to his chest, which rose and fell quickly under her touch, beneath her mouth. She knew everything that mattered about that heart, and who Rip Hunter truly was, deep within it._ _

__

__“I forgive you,” Sara concluded, and he nodded, finally accepting it, starting to come back to himself._ _

__

__“I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain Lance,” Gideon said, “But we’ve arrived at our destination.”_ _

__


	5. Chapter 4: A World of Chances

Events seemed to fall into place rather easily as far as concluding the mission went. Soon, the Legends were onboard the Wave Rider again, while DeBoer was off on his typically merry way with his cube fully assembled, leaving his hat in Zari's hands and an intrigued smile lingering on her lips. If DeBoer or his buyers caused trouble with the invention, which seemed suspiciously inevitable, the Legends would be there to stop it. They would be ready and waiting.

Meanwhile, the Time Bureau was about to have their hands full with the feisty new prisoner they’d found aboard the Sandstorm. Esme never seemed to rest, much less sleep, fighting her restraints and body slamming anything and anyone in her path.

“That was too easy,” Sara mused, pacing the bridge as the Legends regrouped. 

Her eyes were sore with the physical craving for sleep she kept pushing aside, but more distracting still, the deep ache in her heart to care for Rip was unbearable. She couldn’t stand still or rest until she knew he was alright, but there were duties she had to deal with first, like conferring with the team. She pressed her chapped pink lips together and hoped she could get a good, long time to sit and talk with Rip soon.

“Let’s not look a gift-horse in the mouth,” Amaya cautioned, rubbing her stiff neck and then exhaustedly fluffing her luscious mane of dark curls. “If defeating the Rodriguez twins and extricating ourselves from DeBoer’s manipulation was easy, that’s all for the best. Mallus and Darhk are still out there, and that’s quite enough to keep us busy.”

“And I doubt we’ve seen the last of Rainbow Spite,” Rory growled, gesturing with his beer bottle. How had he even obtained and popped open a beer that quickly after they arrived on the bridge? Sara shook her head, knowing it shouldn’t surprise her. “She holds us responsible for the death of her brother.”

“Maybe if _Rip_ hadn’t been quite so trigger-happy,” Nate suggested coldly, “We wouldn’t have a vengeful new enemy.”

“If Rip hadn’t killed Esmer, I’d be dead,” Sara said bluntly, rounding on him confrontationally. She was in no mood for more patented Nate Heywood ignorant whining.

“Okay, that explains why Esmer had to go, but still…why is Rip here?” Jax inquired, more politely baffled. 

Meanwhile, Rip looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if he wanted to fade into the wall he was standing against in the back of the room. His eyes were haunted and he looked down at the floor.

“I said Rip could stay with us for the time being,” Sara explained with a steely calm. “He’s having a hard time and he’ll be safe here with us.”

“You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not in the room,” Rip put in, finally raising his eyes to meet hers, resting his shaky hands against the wall. “That’s very kind of you, Sara. I won’t make a nuisance of myself. In fact, I’ll adjourn to quarters for the time being.”

“Why do we care what he’s going through, after what he did to us?” Nate demanded stubbornly.

Martin and Ray exchanged more pensive looks, waiting to see how the situation developed.

“If I were you, Pretty, I’d stick a sock in it,” Mick warned with casual wisdom. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look Blondie’s shooting your way.”

“I may not trust Rip right now, but I do trust Sara,” Amaya said sensibly. “I’m willing to go along with whatever decision on this she feels is best.”

Normally, Martin might have given in to the urge to pontificate at length, but the tension and anxiety in the air stopped him. “I agree,” he said simply.

“That makes three of us,” Ray concurred. He had no problem letting wistful hope shine through in his eyes. That was because he’d wanted Rip to prove he was still loyal, had still been their friend at heart all along.

“Actually, I agree with Nate,” Jax put in, “It’s Rip’s fault we have to deal with Mallus _and_ Darhk being at large. We don’t have time to help with his problems, whatever they are. I can guarantee you they were probably self-inflicted.” 

Sara thought about what Nate and Jax had both said. They were all tired and she gave them the consideration of knowing how that would impact their ability to process Rip’s presence. Nate had a tendency to get up on his moral high horse which seemed to come to him so easily that it belied his lazy, frat-boy persona as much as his intellectual and academic accomplishments did. He seemed to get a condescending thrill from lording his supposedly superior judgement over others. She didn’t know how Amaya put up with Nate’s attitude because right now, in spite of all of his other lovable qualities it was on her last nerve. 

As for Jax…she saw the protective and worried expression in his caring eyes and knew his response came out of a knee-jerk instinct to look after the crew’s best interest as well as his hurt feelings from Rip’s betrayal. She could sympathize more with his outlook, but he was still wrong.

“Right, because no one else here ever made catastrophic errors in judgement and hurt others without meaning to,” Sara quipped tartly. “Rip Hunter is a Legend. Nothing that’s happened changes that. He put this team together, he pulled most of us from lives we wanted no part of and gave us new purpose. If being a screw-up disqualifies someone from being a member of this team, then everyone had better go home right now.” She put her hands on her hips, looking around at her friends, gauging their reactions to her words.

“Sara,” Rip reasoned quietly, “It’s fine. They have no reason to forgive me. I don’t need to be back on the team, I just need…refuge right now.”

“You haven’t earned the right to seek sanctuary with us,” Nate said, causing Sara to bristle. Mick shook his head with a low chuckle, knowing he’d crossed the line. 

“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough with you, Nate,” Sara replied in her chilliest tone, stepping closer and glaring at him. “Leave Rip. The fuck. Alone. You leave him alone!”

They’d never seen Sara lose her temper with a team member to that severe an extent before. A hush fell over the room. Meanwhile, Rip’s eyes were filled with conflicted gratitude and guilt as he stared at Sara somewhat astonished.

“God, okay, fine. Whatever! Are you _okay?_ ” Nate looked at Sara somewhat aghast. Jax held his hands up in a silent display of surrender.

“Are _you_?” Sara countered. Nate let out a frustrated breath and turned away. 

“Fine, I’m letting it go,” he relented, “I hope you’re right about him.”

“Look, I just met the guy,” Zari explained, swiveling back and forth in her chair with a shrug. “I’m willing to play nice. Oh, sorry. I just assumed that eventually, someone was going to ask for my opinion.”

********************************************************************************************

“Sara, this absurd,” Rip worried as they entered her quarters together. She sat down on the bed, sighing in immediate relief at the realization that she hadn’t relaxed in what felt like eons. Being back on the Wave Rider, in this temporary respite between missions, it felt like being home again. The bickering between Legends just made it feel more like home, she reflected wryly.

Looking into Rip’s face, despite his anxious expression, was the most like home of all. Sara’s smile was small, tentative, and welcoming. She needed to be gentle with him now. It couldn’t have been clearer that Rip wasn’t comfortable in his own skin, much less on his former ship, surrounded by a crew who either merely tolerated or openly resented him. She patted a spot on the bed beside her, drawing one knee up to rest her chin on it casually. 

“Come here,” she said calmly, just short of brightly. She was skating along a delicate edge, trying so hard to make him feel he could breathe and be at peace now.

Rip nodded and sat, stiff and awkward. “I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here anymore, and based on what just happened out there, it’s clearly very noticeable.”

“Hmm, okay, let’s go with that theory for a minute,” Sara agreed thoughtfully. Wisps of blonde hair had escaped from her ponytail and framed her face, prompting Rip to caress her cheek, gazing fondly on the smattering of freckles there. 

“Well, that’s distracting,” Sara murmured, “but I’m going to stay on topic.” She gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes and felt like getting lost.

They both chuckled. “If you don’t belong here,” she went on, “how do you explain the way you feel right now, when I tell you that I want you to stay?”

“If I stay, it’s going to make everyone that wanted me gone angry and off their game during the battles to come. This is no time for that, Sara.” Still, he let his thumb drift to her lips, slowly grazing over them, his motions continuing the silent conversation which accompanied their verbal one. The physical longing to touch each other, so long repressed, was now insatiable.

“Maybe so,” she agreed, now _definitely_ lost in the light pooling in his eyes now until she felt rendered almost bashful — _Sara Lance, bashful!_

His slicked-back hair threw his handsome features into sharp focus and she was beyond happy to see that his beard was growing back in. She wanted to press her fingers to his jaw and feel the bristly hairs rubbing her skin.

The word “distracting” barely covered it. She cleared her throat, the rush of nervousness palpable in the air between them, making them both hyperaware of their own motions and words, and mutually amused by what total geeks they became around each other when their guards were down. 

“But, um, maybe we need _all_ the Legends working together, with no funny business and solo decision-making this time,” she elbowed him, “In order to defeat enemies that crazy-imposing. Don’t you want to prove yourself? After everything you said to me earlier, all the mistakes and regrets — don’t you want to set things right? And what’s the alternative, find a quiet place to write emo poetry?”

This time, Rip let a full laugh escape his lips. “You’re making some fairly irrefutable points there, Captain Lance. In fact, you’re so persuasive, I almost believe I’ve got a shot in hell of ever redeeming myself.”

Sara sat cross legged and facing him full on. “You kissed me before. Did you mean to do that, or were you just so upset that—”

Rip interrupted her sentence with another kiss on her mouth, his own lips warm and eager. She felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine, the sensation spreading over her whole body in waves of hot tingles. 

He pulled back, pressing his forehead lightly to hers, and explained, “I meant to do it.”

“Good,” Sara grinned. She fell backwards onto the bed, tugging his shirt to take him down with her. “It’s time for you to relax.”

“Not exactly the first instinct I’m feeling at the moment,” Rip pointed out in a sexy growl, hovering over her.

“Me, neither. But it’s what you need right now.” She gazed up at him transfixed.

“I love you, Sara,” he said suddenly, holding her snugly.

Her heart squeezed with a painful joy. “I love you, too, Rip. I never thought I’d actually tell you, though.”

“That’s my fault,” Rip replied, but she shook her head.

“You need to take a break from that phrase for a while. And just know that I’ve got sort of this…endless, bottomless pit filled up with chances for you. I have been waiting all this time for you to take just one of those chances. I don’t think you’re going to let me down again. I believe in you…love.” This time, her smile was definitely shy, a blush spreading over her pretty, round cheeks and highlighting her freckles.

“But even if I do let you down, you’ve got that big pit full of extra chances,” Rip said worriedly. “That’s just it, Sara, I don’t deserve all that if there’s even a tiny chance I could give into my baser instincts, my myopic drive to save the universe at all costs, and put you or the others in danger. How can you trust me?”

“It’s called love, you bonehead.” Sara laughed, running her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “It has nothing to do with what you deserve. I love you, I’ll always forgive you, I don’t have a choice. Only the ability to pretend otherwise, which has gotten pretty damn old at this point. Plus, I think there’s one part about that pit you’re not thinking of.” She raised her eyebrows in combined wisdom and playfulness.

Rip kissed her forehead, then her cheek, causing Sara to sigh at the sweet, soft pleasure of how good it felt to be honest and real together. “What’s that?” Rip asked.

“It’s a Lazarus Pit,” Sara assured him confidently. “Find strength in it. You’re a good man, so be that guy. Stand by my side and be with me. Let yourself be home, let yourself be a member of our team. Believe you deserve to be a Legend. Not doing that is what really led to your mistakes, if you can just admit it to yourself.”

His face crumpled in overwhelmed adoration and he kissed her forehead, her flushed face all over. “Sara,” he sighed raggedly, “You’re right. I couldn’t let myself believe I deserved anything after what happened to my wife and son, after I couldn’t save them…but with you, I feel safe enough to try and believe again.”

“I’m glad,” she answered frankly, “Because that’s what you did for me when I first joined the Legends. I believed I was a morally bankrupt, irredeemably bloodthirsty monster. You taught me otherwise.” She began meeting him kiss for kiss, pressing her mouth to his cheeks, then softly to his lips, fighting the urge to get carried away. “I’m who I am today thanks to you.”

“I love you,” Rip said huskily, claiming her mouth more deeply until she moaned deep in her throat, sliding her tongue against his and raising her hips against his growing arousal. They clung together and made out with reckless abandon until they were so excited that they were panting under the clear knowledge that this wasn’t the right time for them to make love. He was still recovering from trauma and they needed to wait until he was in a more stable state of mind. 

They looked at each other, breathing so hard that Sara’s chest ached as deeply as the wet heat at her center throbbed. She wiped the tears from both of their eyes and gently rolled him onto his back beside her before resting her face on his chest, right against his thundering heartbeat. They went on holding each other as their bodies calmed. 

“I love you,” Rip repeated, kissing her head, massaging her back as Sara’s every muscle relaxed and she melted against him blissfully. “I love you.” A whisper, his breath making her hair tickle her forehead.

“Sleep now, love,” Sara urged attentively, rubbing her face back and forth against his chest, holding his torso firmly, protectively. “I’m here. You’re alright. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Do you really trust that I’ll be here for you, too?” he asked quietly, sleep tugging his consciousness until his voice went slightly sluggish though he couldn’t resist the urge to pose the question.

“Yes, I really do. I really trust you. I think we have a new beginning and we’re going to make the most of it.” She glanced up at him and saw that his eyes were fluttering shut, his breathing now even and contented. Her words were sincere, however vulnerable. Sleep beckoned and she surrendered to its embrace, wrapped up in Rip’s. 

_Goodnight, baby. We’re going to be alright now. We have each other._

She had never believed anything more.

*********************************************************************************

Weeks went by and Rip slept in Sara’s room every night. They ate their dinner in the mess hall with the other Legends and then they went back to her quarters, the two of them, and talked for hours, kissed and drove each other wild before collapsing into sleep, satiated by their trusting connection. 

During the days, the Legends all worked hard on the search for Darhk until they grew more and more adept at tracking his movements. Damien and his daughter Nora were busily accruing more followers for Mallus' cult over time, tempting poor souls to be possessed by the demon until he could cross over to the world of the living. Sometimes the Legends saved the day and protected his would-be victims and sometimes they returned to the Wave Rider hollowed out by heartbreaking failure. 

Sara might have been confused at Damien’s willingness to work for anyone else, surrender his own power to help the demon reenter the mortal realm, but she knew her old enemy better than that. Clearly, Dahrk would try and claim Mallus’ mystical strength and his followers so that he could reinitiate his _own_ plan for world domination. Their ultimate goal wouldn’t be to destroy Mallus; that might even be the easy part. This adventure would end with Sara facing Dahrk down once again, she knew it in her bones…but what she didn’t know was how she could get through it without killing him this time.

The team began to get used to having Rip around again until he was just one of the gang, gruffly mocked by Mick, tired out by Ray’s excessive cheerfulness and soothed by inevitability of Martin’s lengthy scientific speeches. Amaya and Zari warmed to Rip’s presence, even if the former was slightly more restrained; meanwhile Jax was cautious, his wariness beginning to fade with time.

After Rip pulled the team out of harm’s way with a spectacularly clever move during one mission, Nate forgot all about his resentment and gave his former Captain a high five. 

“Yeah, man!” Nate shouted, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Rip laughed bashfully and got back to work, while Sara raised a brow and shot Nate an incisive look. 

He groaned and threw his hands up. “Fine, fine, fine. I was wrong about Rip and you were right. But remember, Sara, that’s just another example of why you’re the Captain and I follow your orders. You really do know what’s best for the team, even if we can’t always see it at the time.”

Nate’s mouth twitched in a tiny smile and Sara burst into giggles, pulling him into a hug. “You’re damn right, Heywood,” she muttered before drawing back to smile warmly at Rip. 

Rip nodded at her and the next time they were side by side he dropped his head to whisper rather sexily into her ear, “The best Damn Captain in the multiverse. Anyone can see that.”

She wrapped her arm around Rip’s waist and squeezed him close. The others already knew they were together, so why not indulge in a little PDA? 

“Things have changed, haven’t they? You’re back and we’re stronger than before. It feels like we could do almost anything as long as we’re together,” she reflected.

“Yes,” Rip agreed softly, kissing the top of her head and rocking her slightly. “I’ve changed…I feel like a whole person somehow. You’ve saved me, Sara Lance.”

“Before this is over, when I have to face down Darhk, it’s not gonna be pretty, Rip. Just don’t count on me being perfectly redeemed myself. I’m nobody’s savior…but _maaaybe_ love is.” Despite her nervousness and the truth in her admission of insecurity, her lips twitched in a smile when she thought about their love.

“I have your back, Captain Lance. We all do. Just don’t forget that.” Rip rubbed his long fingers reassuringly up and down her arm as they watched the others roaming the bridge, squabbling and chattering in their usual cacophony.

“Mom? Dad? A little help?” Jax shot them an amused look and beckoned them nearer, nodding up at some readings which Gideon had just updated. “I think we might have pinned down Darhk’s next intended target.”

“Duty calls,” Rip smiled, taking Sara’s hand and squeezing it before they joined the others.

“As always,” she pouted, but the deep-set expression in his eyes just then as she walked slightly ahead of him was way too arousing for the public setting. “Rip Hunter, are you checking out my—”

“Of course not,” he lied blatantly, batting his eyelashes in teasing faux-innocence. “Imagine the scandal.”

Sara smiled at him dreamily, giving a little shiver and a private giggle at the thought that they still hadn’t made love and she was deeply looking forward to the experience. 

“I have imagined it, actually. At length. And in great detail.” She winked at his astounded, flustered expression and kept walking, swaying her hips provocatively.

She hoped there was time for every little thing they still had to learn and enjoy about each other, every way they would grow together and evolve into who they were ultimately meant to be as a couple. Despite every tendril of fear spreading out into her consciousness the closer they got to facing Darhk and Mallus’ endgame, Sara still clung to that hope. It would keep her going.


End file.
